My dream was suddenly broken; the band struck up and almost every man sought a partner and away they went in the waltz, actually waltzing on ice. Mr. Bang came up and asked if I waltzed. I replied that I didn’t. This avowal might under other circumstances have caused me pain.
He and Ethel then went to skate, but were evidently not as good skaters as the majority present. Ethel particularly, did not seem to have mastered the art. She and Jack did not seem to skate so smoothly and confidently as the others. But how I envied the girl in green: I was fascinated by her, enthralled.
The band stopped, and I sighed; my friends came back to me.
“You must learn to waltz, Little Partner,” Mr. Bang remarked kindly.
“Yes,” I replied without enthusiasm. I did not relish having Ethel hear me addressed as “Little Partner,” though she seemed neither shocked nor amused. I would positively have disliked the girl in green to have been a witness.
“Ethel, who is that girl in green?” I had to ask.
“Doesn’t she skate beautifully—that’s Mabel Lien.”
“Mabel Lien! She does,” I sighed. I thought of her grandfather and mine, the disparity between the girl in green and myself; she sought after, petted and pampered, in fine plumage: and me—! For two pins I’d be a socialist.
A young man came up and engaged Ethel for the next band. He was introduced to me and then they went away skating, hand in hand. So Mr. Bang and I were left together. He amused himself by twirling away at figures, while I resumed my reverie.
Mr. Bang asked me to try and skate with him. We tried and failed. I was counted a good skater among the girls at home. I asked my cavalier who Mabel Lien had for a partner, and was told, “Polly Townsend.” Polly!